Redeemed: An ODST's life
by Tilthanial
Summary: One ODST in an army of humans. One Covenant Invasion of the galaxy. One chance at redemption. It's finished now, Please Review!
1. Chapter 1

Staff Sergeant Lipton ducked under the burning Warthog. Plasma fired flashed past his head and stitched a line past his foot. _They're getting _closer. The telltale whine of a Banshee flier sounded overhead. _Crap. Now they have air support._

A green private crawled over to his position. "Sir, we are running low on ammunition. If we don't evac, we'll be..."

A solid beam of energy tore through his chest and buried itself in Lipton's knee. Pain stabbed up his leg as the beam cracked his femur. Cauterized blood sprayed across his face from the private's wound.

Lipton dragged the man behind the Warthog and searched for the corpsman. "Medic! I need a medic up front!"

Corporals Young and Xyman rose as one and poured suppressive fire into the advancing Covenant forces. A trio of well-placed rounds brought down an Elite and two Grunts before the aliens ducked under cover. As they continued providing cover, Private Isaacs dashed out from between the barricades. He dove behind the Warthog a split second before a barrage of plasma battered the wrecked 4x4. Lipton leaned the injured man against the Warthog and ripped open his shirt.

Corpsman Isaacs rifled through his kit and produced a fist-sized container of self-sealing biofoam. The private gasped as the foam slid into the wound. A rough bandage completed the hasty dressing. Isaacs tapped the man's helmet twice and picked up his SMG.

"You're good, soldier. Another inch higher and you'd have been a goner."

The private wheezed as he replaced his helmet. "Thank you, sir! I'm fine now…"

A quartet of plasma beams struck the Warthog. One penetrated the vehicle and pierced the man's battle-suit. Flames erupted as his oxygen tank ruptured under the intense heat. He sprawled forward and grabbed wildly at his pack. Lipton lunged forward and heaved him back under the Warthog. The private slumped limply alongside the windshield. Lipton rolled the man over and checked his pulse. After a moment he grimaced and collected the man's dog tags.

"Isaacs, follow me. We're pulling back to that bunker." He indicated an old bunker dug into the hill-side. "From there we'll try to hold out. Ready, go!"

Lipton hurled a fragmentation grenade over the Warthog and waited. A muffled thud greeted his ears and he charged back towards the bunker. All along the line NCOs noted his move and began issuing orders to retreat. The ODSTs fell back in good order, maintaining a strong covering fire to mask their retreat.

Lipton and Isaacs passed the barricade where Young and Xyman were positioned. A smoking corpse welcomed them as they hurtled the barrier. Young moaned softly when he saw them. His broken M5B lay across his chest, shattered by a metal splinter. Blood flowed freely from his left arm.

Lipton and Isaacs stooped down and lifted Young off of the ground. Together they carried his body back to the main lines. They were half-way to the bunked when a Banshee spotted them in the open. The Covenant flier swooped down on them with its cannons spitting plasma fire willy-nilly. Isaacs hefted Young over his shoulder and quickened his pace. He shouted over his shoulder at Lipton as he hurried off.

"Take out that flier, Sarge. I've got Young."

Lipton acknowledged Isaacs and steadied his rifle. His scope clicked satisfactorily as he grimly zeroed in on his prey. No one in his battalion was as good a shot as he was with the battle rifle. Plasma splashed all around him as he patiently took aim. The Banshee approached head on, like a battering ram. _It must be a blue,_ He thought.

When the Banshee entered within maximum range he squeezed the trigger. A trio of rounds spattered against the Banshee's left fuselage pod. Sparks flashed as the rounds scraped the flier. The next burst dented the casing, causing more sparks to erupt. His third burst penetrated the pod and set off the fuel. The Banshee disappeared in a bright ball of blue fire.

Lipton turned his back on the wreckage and surveyed the field for a moment. Isaacs had crossed three-quarters of the field with Young slung across his back. Two Helljumpers broke away from the protection of the slit trenches to ease his burden. They reached Isaacs and hefted the man between them. Lipton saw them wave Isaacs off and he started off after them.

As the Helljumpers entered the trench, a rouge plasma grenade fell from a passing Banshee. The grenade sank into the ditch and exploded, enveloping the men in flame. Wooden splinters flew in all directions as the trench disintegrated. Isaacs rolled out of the trench minus his helmet and submachine gun.

Lipton swore and dodged flying debris. He scurried to the trench and pulled Isaacs in after him. A quick assessment revealed that his Corporal had several broken bones. Isaacs screamed in pain as Lipton picked him up over his shoulder. The Sergeant raced through the tunnel network as plasma fire peppered his former position.

Dozens of Marines clustered around him as he finally entered the bunker. Willing hands lifted Isaacs off his back and onto a cleared table. A Medic appeared by his side and set to work cleaning his wounds. Soon Lipton stood forgotten in the bunker as men frantically ran from place to place. He spotted a stack of empty crates and lay down beside them. The frenzied chaos of the battlefield dimmed to a dull buzz as Lipton shut his eyes. A sense of calm came over him as he tried to catch up on his sleep that had been so long denied him.

Then the Wraith shells screeched down on the bunker like avenging demons.


	2. Chapter 2

A rough shove woke Sgt. Lipton from his sleep. The first thing that he saw was an armored hand gripping his shoulder. Looking up, he stared straight into the tinted visor of a Spartan. Weariness drained from his body as adrenaline took over. He sprang up and snapped a quick salute to the Petty Officer.

"Staff Sergeant Lipton reporting, sir!"

The Spartan nodded once and tilted its head toward the bunker's entrance. Rough alien cries ascended in through the late evening air. A mound of rotting Grunt corpses clogged the doorframe, testifying to the stubbornness of the ODST defenders. Further down the line came the harsh screams of Jackals and soldiers grappling in a vicious melee.

Sgt. Lipton searched the room for a weapon. What was once the weapon's rack was now a heap of twisted metal shards. Seeing nothing, he sighed and unholstered his sidearm. With pistol in hand he advanced on the door.

The Spartan strode in front of him and halted him with an upraised hand. The soldier reversed its grip on a shotgun and handed it butt first to the ODST. Without a word it turned on its heel and headed for the door.

Sgt. Lipton watched the Spartan quizzically. "Sir, you're unarmed. Shouldn't you carry the 10 gauge?"

The Spartan looked back for a moment. Even through the blackened visor Sgt. Lipton could sense the steel confidence of the soldier. He shrugged submissively and cocked the gun.

The light of the fading sun blinded Sgt. Lipton momentarily as he exited the bunker. After clearing his eyes, he surveyed the apocalyptic scene below him.

Hundreds of Covenant corpses littered the fields as far as his eyes could see. Scattered among them were scores of bodies fielding the Marine-issue green camouflage. Still among that mass were a couple dozen figures wearing the Mark 4 Hammer battle-suits worn by the ODST soldiers.

Even more terrifying then all of the carnage below, was the constant stream of Covenant troopships descending into the atmosphere from the Covenant fleet in space. An endless line of ground troops streamed from the Covenant landing zones.

Sgt. Lipton swore as a stream of plasma carved a line in the trench by his feet. He rolled past a gap in the line and crawled under a string of barbed-wire. Blood drenched his uniform as a Grunt exploded above him. Facing upwards, he saw a squad of determined Marines gunning down everything in range with a hail of lead. An Elite literally disappeared as a concentrated storm of lead shredded him in pieces.

Lipton signaled a thumbs-up to the Marine sergeant, who promptly returned the gesture with a grin and a stream of curses.

_Trigger-happy Marines._ Lipton smiled underneath his helmet and rose into a crouch. The air in front of him shimmered slightly as a dust cloud blew past him. He fired two rounds into the air and grunted as an Elite appeared in thin air and collapsed on the ground. He fed more rounds into his shotgun and proceeded down the line to where his platoon was last positioned.

A Hunter vaulted the trench and landed behind him with a deafening roar. Lipton had time to fire helplessly into its shield before it shoulder charged him into the trench wall. Stars filled his vision as the behemoth pinned him into the dirt. The beast stared him in the face for a second; pain and rage emancipated from it like a wave. Then the monster planted its fuel rod gun directly on his chest. Lipton closed his eyes and waited for death.

The Hunter suddenly straightened and howled in pain. Lipton gasped as the beast tumbled to the side. A long bayonet knife protruded from its head, buried up to its hilt in alien brains. The Spartan stood over the corpse, a needler in each hand. Alien blood covered the Spartan's arms. Lipton did not need to guess to figure out how the Spartan had retrieved the weapons.

The Spartan signaled for him to follow. Lipton scrambled to his feet and hurried after the Spartan. Covenant forces melted before their combined assault as they worked their way down the bloody trench network.

The Elite Snag'hitha's shoulders sagged as he read the preliminary casualty reports. The Covenant forces had overwhelmed the infidel humans at nearly every point. However, too many of his fellow comrades had fallen before the defenses of the humans. He silently noted that the commander in charge of the operation should be reprimanded for his thoughtless planning.

A pair of black-armored Elites approached his command seat and bowed low, clicking there mandibles in acknowledgement of his superiority. He waved to them absent-mindedly. "State your report."

The senior of the two rose to his feet. "Commander, a team of the demons has been sighted in the Omega quadrant northeast of the landing zone. They are being kept under surveillance by Seraph patrols and pose no serious threat to our operations. Nonetheless I suggest that a company be sent to deal with them in case they develop a plan to hinder our efforts."

Snag'hitha cocked his head and surveyed the commando curiously. The commandos were trained to be tough, fearless weapons; completely loyal and unreservedly ferocious. They would tackle whole armies of enemies single-handed, but a small team of humans gave them worry.

"Show me these demons."

The Elite nodded to a sub-altern and pointed to the holoscreen. An image of a pair of Hunters appeared in front of him. They lumbered through the field towards the humans' trenches with ease. Before they could reach the trench, a green armored human leapt out of the trenches and confronted them. The Hunters charged toward him with reckless abandon, roaring their battle-cries. The human calmly side-stepped the lead Hunter and swung gout at the second one. The lead Hunter continued on into the trench, but the second Hunter grunted in pain and keeled over. A pair of Grunts following the Hunters attacked the human point-blank, needlers spraying. The needles bounced off of a shield and exploded harmlessly in the air. With inhuman speed the human closed the gap between them and snapped their necks. Picking up their weapons, it returned to the trench and slew the second Hunter with a flick of his wrist.

The image faded from view and the commando resumed standing. "That was all that was captured before our contact lost visual. One human alone did this; the others inflict much greater damage on our forces. If we are not careful, they could get in the way."

Snag'hitha examined the commando carefully. Satisfied that he was competent, he saluted the warrior. "Your request is granted. I will detail a reconnaissance company to your command. Use them wisely, Commander Crithaes."

The commandoes bowed several times as they left the room. Once they exited the room, Snag'hitha turned to face an Elite hiding in the shadows. The gleaming helm of the Brute's armor twinkled as he left the shadows. "You heard the commando, Barabus. Go, slay the demons."

The Brute bowed and exited the room stiffly. Snag'hitha chuckled to himself. The commando would not be able to stop the demons. He had seen them before. The reconnaissance company would serve as a nice decoy for Barabus' command.

Sgt. Lipton breathed a sigh of relief as his platoon's position came into view. The bunker still stood, despite the Covenant's best efforts. The burning hulls of Covenant vehicles littered the fields, testifying to the ODSTs' resolve.

Lieutenant Smith saluted the Spartan as they slid into the bunker.

"Lieutenant Mitchell Smith reporting, sir."

The Spartan returned the salute and surveyed the bunker. Corpses lay piled up in the doorways as barricades. Those too wounded to fight huddled in the far corner of the bunker, waiting for medical assistance. The lightly injured and healthy troops manned the defenses. They fired their weapons, called down artillery support, and threw grenades, rocks, and even empty magazines at the relentless Covenant forces. Mounds of dead Covenant created hedges that funneled the Covenant into an ever-increasingly deadly crossfire.

The ODST's cried out in joy as Lipton took a place on the firing steps. He acknowledged them with a nod before focusing his attention on a jackal that was sneaking through the hail of lead. A quick tap of his trigger brought the Jackal down with a perfect headshot. He smiled grimly and pasted Grunt blood over an Elite as he relished the feeling of adrenaline rushing through his body. _This was life._


	3. Chapter 3

Spartan 117 radioed his teammates and placed a beacon on their HUDs at his position. He handed his needlers to a pair of empty-handed ODSTs and turned on his external comm. "Lieutenant, I need a squad of your men."

The LT coughed and blinked back astonishment at the Spartan's words.

"You want what?"

"I need a squad of your men. No more than five, but no less than three. Can you get me them?"

The Lieutenant mumbled a hasty reply and scrambled to carry out the Chief Petty Officer's biddings. He pointed to Sgt. Lipton and the three men next to him. The men leapt off of their positions and assembled before the Spartan, faces glowing in apprehension.

Lipton held a shotgun out to the Spartan and grinned. "Here's your shotgun back, sir. I don't need it anymore."

The Spartan's reply was cut off as a barrage of a dozen 102mm rockets pulverized the ground before them. Alien blood soaked the bunker as scores of Covenant troops disintegrated under the inferno. A trio of Spartans hurdled one of the barricades and landed like a group of movie heroes. Smoke curled off of their armor from dozens of spots as they calmly marched past the stunned ODSTs and saluted the Lieutenant.

The lead Spartan handed his rocket launcher handle first to a nearby ODST trooper. "That should give us a brief respite. We are ready to go, Red One."

"Roger that, Red Two. We've got an extra team with us for this one."

The Spartan sized up the ODSTs and shrugged. "Works for me, Lead." It stepped aside and waved at the door with a flourish. "Your chariot awaits."

Lipton signaled the fill-in squad and followed the Spartans out of the bunker. Without a word the Spartans hopped onto a pair of Warthogs. The ODSTs jumped into the empty seats and flipped their safeties off.

"Ready when you are, sir."

Spartan 117 pressed down on the pedal and the Warthog shot off into the war torn landscape.

The Elite Crithaes shifted uncomfortably under the thick foliage. His men twitched nervously as they listened to the approaching vehicles. He silently cursed his misfortune as he reviewed the unit's battle resume. _Mainly guard-duty layabouts, not fit to wipe his boots clean. Snag'hitha must be mad! These troops couldn't stop a mad Grunt._

His orderly slipped into the brush beside him with the grace and silence befitting his role of a Prophet-blessed commando. His carbine glistened ever so slightly as the fading sun broke through a cloud.

"The demons are about to enter the grove."

A nod was all the order he needed. His form faded back into the brush and he sped off towards the weapons emplacements.

Sgt. Lipton swallowed hard as his lunch crept up his throat. The constant jarring of the Warthog had numbed his butt and hands during the half-hour ride. Still the Spartans showed no sign of slowing down. He leaned over and shouted into the Spartan's ear to be heard over the engine's roar.

"My men can't stand this for much longer. We don't have your armor!"

The Spartan showed no sign of having heard the ODST, but he did change course. An opening appeared through the trees ahead of them. Lipton swore as the Warthog ramped up a fallen tree, launching them high in the air. He turned to face the Spartan and froze in horror. A brace of Covenant Shades poured hot plasma after them as the vehicle slowly glided through the air.

The Warthog hit the ground with a thud, throwing Lipton clear of the crash. He rolled with his dive and came up scanning the surrounding trees for available threats. At the moment only the Shades appeared, so he satisfied his search with the Grunt gunners. A double tap of his battle rifle tossed the first Grunt clear of his Shade. The other fell to a 14.5mm in the throat. The little alien burst in flames and hurtled off of the ledge it was on. The dry woods caught fire instantly, setting off a chain reaction in the trees.

All at once hell broke loose. The second Warthog landed lightly beside the first, chain-gun blazing away at the trees. Dozens of panicked Grunts and Jackals poured out of the trees, screaming in fear at the hungry flames. A hail of plasma scorched the ground around him and he dove for cover behind a rotten tree. Splinters flew in all directions as round after round punched into the soft wood.

A delirious Grunt rushed past him, screeching in pain as fire licked at its back. The flames touched its methane-pack and the alien exploded like a firecracker, spraying Lipton with steaming gore. He shuddered reflexively and rose to his feet. He methodically mowed down alien after alien until his ammo counter reached zero. The other ODSTs copied his example, laying down an impressive amount of lead into the uncoordinated Covenant forces.

One of the Spartans hurdled a pile of dead Jackals and settled down beside him. The Spartan emptied a clip of its pistol into a rustling bush nearby and an Elite tumbled out, riddled with holes. Lipton whooped in appreciation and peaked over the Spartan's back. Another Elite hid on the edge of the tree line, waiting for an opportunity to strike. Seeing the Spartan's unprotected back, it dashed out of its cover and launched a plasma grenade in the air.

Time slowed to a crawl as Lipton shouted a warning. The Spartan spun on its heel, gun spraying lead at the Elite. Purple blood geysered from the Elite's head as it howled in triumph. The grenade continued its deadly descent, whistling eerily through the air. The Spartan stood directly in its path, oblivious to the lethal bomb approaching it. Lipton hurled himself at the Spartan and grunted in pain as they toppled over the dead tree. A wave of heat swept over them as the grenade detonated, taking out a large portion of the tree behind them.

Pain stabbed through Lipton's back as he groggily shook his head. His ears buzzed incessantly from the explosion. A quick check revealed that he was fine. The Spartan, however, was a different story. Oil oozed out of the Spartan's suit at every point. Half of the Spartan's helmet had been burnt away, revealing the pale, delicate face of one of the genetically enhanced warriors that struck fear into Covenant hearts.

The Spartan coughed up blood as she struggled to regain her feet. A spasm of pain brought her down to her knees as she valiantly scrambled for her sidearm. Sgt. Lipton handed her his battle rifle and drew his magnum, scanning for threats. The Spartan shouldered the weapon and leaned wearily against the remains of the tree.

A pair of Elites rose from cover and unleashed a torrent of fire at their position. A shower of bullets slew them instantly. Although they died as swiftly as they appeared, they succeeded in firing a sizable barrage at their target. The Spartan screamed in pain as plasmas tore into her uninjured arm and Lipton took a couple glancing rounds in the chest. He cursed the Elite's accuracy and rolled on the ground to extinguish the flames sizzling on his armor. His comm accidentally flipped on and he caught a brief clip from his Lieutenant.

_Covenant forces overwhelming…85 casualties…retreating to fall-back…requesting support…_

The comm shut down and Lipton felt his spirit sag. His platoon had finally met its fate. Lipton's years of pent-up rage exploded in his chest. His vision turned red as he let his body feed on his anger. A deep, throaty roar ripped from his mouth and he snapped.

The Spartan's magnum appeared in his left hand as he pushed himself off of the ground. Grunts and Jackals stared mutely as he tore across the open ground, covering fifty meters in four seconds. Pain and fatigue dissipated in his muscles as he vented his anger on the Covenant troops. Grunts flew like ragdolls as he crashed through the stunned horde of aliens. His fingers yanked repeatedly on the triggers of his sidearms, releasing a shower of lead in front of him. When his ammo ran out, he reversed the weapons and used them as clubs, striking down anything in his way. Jackals and Grunts fell in heaps around him as they snapped out of their reverie and desperately assaulted him from all sides. He stood in the center of the angry mob, beating indiscriminately with his pistols.

As the last Grunt fell, Lipton collapsed in weariness. His lungs screamed for breath and ached terribly from his exertions. A sense of success crept through his body, eliciting a smile from his scarred face.

Two armored hands lifted him off of the ground. Lipton blinked against the harsh light and gazed into the foreboding visor of one of the Spartans. The Spartan hefted him over its shoulder and took off towards the undamaged Warthog at a trot. Through his fatigue Lipton managed an indignant expression at his position. The remaining two ODSTs sniggered at him and called out after him.

"Having fun, Sarge?"

Lipton shot out a snip about the ODSTs mothers as the Spartan dumped him unceremoniously into the driver's seat. The injured Spartan rested in the other seat, barely conscious.

The Spartan gripped Lipton's shoulder tightly. "Get back to Division Headquarters. We'll take it from here. Good luck."

Lipton saluted weakly and watched the remaining Spartans and ODSTs jog into the undergrowth. He sighed to himself and gunned the motor of the Warthog in a farewell salute. Then he spun the wheel of the Warthog and sped out of the smoldering clearing towards the HQ and medical attention.


	4. Chapter 4

Dirt flew under the tracks of his Warthog as Staff Sergeant Lipton raced against the trio of Ghosts behind him. The Ghosts hung close behind him, firing sporadic burst at his vehicle. His Warthog's chain-gun hung limply against the side of the vehicle, trailing smoke.

Lipton's comm. Crackled on and he heard the reassuring voice of his Division commander. "Warthog driver, this is General Grant. What is your status?"

"Sir, this is Staff Sergeant Lipton of the 101st. I'm incoming with wounded and leading three Ghosts, I repeat, three Ghosts."

"I copy, Sergeant. We have a Longsword on the way."

Lipton swore as his vehicle hit a large crater, jolting his passenger, who groaned in pain. "Thank you, sir! Where can I enter?"

The General's reply came back with a resigned touch. "I'm sorry, soldier. All vectors have been cut off except for the back road in from the west. Recommend you alter your course. I am downloading a nav marker to your helmet."

"Roger that, sir." Lipton turned the vehicle towards the entrance. An orange arrow appeared on his visor. His first thoughts were to head straight for it, hoping to outrun the slower Covenant vehicles. Then a thought burst into his head. _The Spartan! That's why they haven't killed us yet!_

Lipton swerved the Warthog to the side, causing the trailing Ghosts to collide in a jumbled heap. The Warthog's engine revved loudly as Lipton pressed the petal down hard. The Warthog shot off, leaving the Ghosts tangled in a mess.

General Grant's voice popped in on the comm. Channel. "What are you doing, Lipton?"

"I can't go that way, it's not safe."

"What do you mean, not safe?"

Lipton took a deep breath before he dropped the hammer. "My injured passenger is a Spartan."

General Grant's voice came back more subdued. "Oh. What does that have to do with the entrance?"

"They are probably listening in on us, so they'd know where the entrance was. I'm going to come in my way." He smashed the comm. Unit with the butt of his pistol. As Lipton imagined the General's reaction, he thought to himself. _My way is right through the freaking front door._

A ledge appeared on Lipton's right, giving him a good view of the battlefield. Covenant dead and wounded covered the plain so thickly that the ground underneath looked out of place among the mass of twisted flesh. Seeing a good path, Lipton gunned the engine and slid down the slope.

The Covenant largely ignored his sole Warthog as he sped towards the human lines, maxing out the vehicle's top speed. The air whistled by so quickly that he had a hard time catching his breath. Covenant troops flashed past, blurs of color and noise.

Finally the Covenant took notice of him. A mob of Grunts, Jackals, Elites, and Hunters blocked his path, plasma weapons firing angry darts of energy past his head. The Warthog plowed through the first wave with the ease of a knife slicing hot butter. A continuous stream of bumps jarred him and his passenger. Then they broke through.

Marines gazed in open-mouthed wonder as the Warthog cleared the slit trenches of the human lines and skidded to a halt. Lipton stumbled out of the smoking vehicles and called for help. A pair of burly marines assisted him in evacuating the wounded Spartan into another vehicle, congratulating him on his daring exploit non-stop.

Lipton stretched luxuriously and hopped in beside the Spartan. The reinforced doors slid shut behind him, blocking off the horrendous scene outside.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time the vehicle reached the HQ, it was dark. A rush of humid air filled the APC as a pair of armed Marines opened the door. Their flashlights flooded the inner compartment. Lipton shielded his eyes and waited for the lights to flick off. They didn't.

"Sgt. Lipton, come on out." A warm, strong hand gripped his arm and tugged him outside. The Marine clicked off his flashlight and shook his head disbelievingly. "Man, is that a Spartan? I never thought I'd see one."

"Yeah, they're pretty rare and all. I lucked out. I saw four of them, all alive and kicking."

"You don't say." The Captain laughed and pointed to the temporary hospital. "Head over for a cleaning. I'll see to it that our guest is cared for."

Lipton thanked the Captain and limped off toward the field hospital. The door to the tent flapped aside from a gust of wind as he approached, allowing him to get a good view of the interior. Countless men lay dead or dying on collapsible tables as the understaffed surgeons rushed back and forth in a frantic attempt to help them. Through the din of screams and calls for supplies, Lipton heard a familiar voice trying to maintain order.

"All walking wounded proceed to the front of the tent for treatment. Those too injured to return to the field, you can't move anyway. Hurry up you landlubbers!"

Color Sergeant Adam Schloshky emerged from a tangled mass of wounded hauling two wounded Marines with him. One had half of his left arm missing from an explosion; the other was missing his legs from the knees down. Lipton hurried over as quickly as his wounded back would allow. Schloshky acknowledged him wearily as Lipton helped him out the men on the operating table. The Color Sergeant wiped a gritty hand across his brow and exhaled heavily.

"Thanks, soldier. There are too many wounded here. If you can stay, we'd appreciate the help."

Lipton laughed and handed him a clean handkerchief. "Do you really think that I'd stay here as long as you are here, Schloshky?"

Schloshky blinked in surprise and squinted. "Lipton? Is that really you? When did you make ODST?"

Lipton poked him in the chest and pulled him outside. "After that fiasco of a prank you pulled, I was faced with a choice; court-martial or ODST. Naturally, I chose ODST."

Schloshky shrugged and shook his head. "What on earth made you accept ODST? I'd prefer death over hanging with those insane duds." He paused to examine Lipton's insignia. "Staff Sergeant, eh? Forget what I said about death over ODST. You've done pretty well for yourself. Where's your platoon?"

Lipton's cheery face fell at the mention of his outfit. "Dead, or at least, nearly dead. Last I heard they were on the frontline a couple miles south with 15 strength. That was half an hour ago, so they're probably gone by now."

Schlosky hung his head in sorrow. "That happens too often in this war. I'm sorry about your men. From what I've seen of the ODST divisions they're real tough fighters. Second only to those Spartan people." He winced at the sound of his words and quickly added. "That is, most of them. Your Spartan-passenger didn't come out to well. What hit her?"

"Plasma grenade. Nasty sucker packed a whole lot more bang than it should have. I got lucky and had a whole tree between me and it when it blew. Even with that I still got some impressive scars." He flexed his arms experimentally and grimaced. "Oh well. That alien slime-ball took three in the face, so we're even."

Schlosky forced a laugh and pointed to the walking-wounded line. "I'm sure you feel even. Well, you'd best get a quick patch so they can send you back to the front. Our fleet is holding its own, surprisingly. In a few hours we'll have air support big-time. Then we'll take the fight to the Covenant."

Lipton sighed and brushed his hand through his hair. "Oh great, that'll be fun. We get to sit back and watch as the flyboys steal our victory."

Schlosky shrugged and ducked back inside the tent. Left to himself, Lipton ambled over to the line of wounded. He slid in behind a grizzled Marine Sergeant and bit back a smile. The Sergeant had a long burn mark on his back stretching from his shoulder to his butt. As Lipton averted his eyes and searched for something more interesting to look at, he caught a glimpse of the makeshift operating room. The sight inside made him shudder in horror and he swallowed hard, fighting to keep his stomach fluids inside.

"Staff Sergeant Lipton."

The Spartan soldier appeared in front of him, devoid of a helmet and sporting a large, dry cut on her jaw. She ignored the astonished looks of the nearby Marines and pulled Lipton out of the line. Despite his protests, she flagged down a Warthog and tossed him inside. The nerves in his back screamed in pain as the Spartan hopped into the driver's seat.

"What are you doing, Spartan?"

"Remnants of your platoon have been spotted off of the line in a deserted village. My comrades are on their way, and I assumed that you would want to tag along."

"Oh." Images of his men flashed through Lipton's mind as he tried to remember any villages marked on the map. "How far is it?"

"A couple miles of Covenant Grunts and such. Buckle down and start shooting when they get too close." She slammed down on the emergency break and sighed regretfully as the Warthog screeched to a halt behind one of the many trench systems manned by the UNSC soldiers. "Looks like we need to walk. How much ammo do you have?"

Lipton checked the magazine for his rifle and grimaced. "Enough to last five Elites. I've got plenty of grenades though." His face brightened slightly as he checked the grenades. "Yep, I've got plenty of grenades. Just tell me if you want me to put up a flak field."

The Spartan almost smiled as his remark. "Don't worry, soldier. I'll make sure to tell you. Until then, scavenge what you can from the Covie's."

"Roger that." Lipton threw a mock salute and squinted across the battlefield. "It looks like we've overstayed our welcome. Wraiths and 'Shees inbound."

"Let the Marines take care of them. We've got a more pressing matter to attend to."

As they ducked into a trench system, Lipton couldn't resist a parting shot at the advancing Covenant forces. He mentally chalked up another kill as his burst caught a gold-armored Elite in the throat. The Elite collapsed into its Wraith without so much as a grunt.

_That makes twenty-three Elites in one day._ He reminded himself. _Only five million more to go before this war's over._


	6. Chapter 6

"All right you lazy slobs, listen up! We've got the whole Covenant army sitting right across that field. Who wants to give them a welcome party? I'm not looking for hands, 'cause you've already been volunteered."

The twenty-three ODST's laughed at the Lieutenant's words and rechecked their ammo. Each man had two clips left for his gun, whatever type he had. Besides that they each had a Covenant weapon stashed aside behind the hastily built fall-back barricade. Every other man held a precious fragmentation grenade in his hands, waiting for the most opportune time to use it.

"Lt. Walters, we've got friendlies!" One of the corporals waved his hand to get the Lt.'s attention and pointed towards the Covenant line. Flashes of fire and plasma lit the woods in a tremendous show of firepower. Even as they watched they saw numerous explosions that outlined the smoking hulls of Wraith tanks, Ghosts and Specters. An untold number of Covenant troops scurried back and forth inside the tree line, seeking cover.

The Lieutenant grimaced and aimed his binoculars on the scene. Once the lenses had focused, he took a quick stock of the situation. A Scarab tank stumped through the forest towards the human forces, yet its gun was spewing plasma at the Covenant soldiers. Muzzle flashes erupted all along the top of the vehicle as well as plasma fire. That could only mean one thing. _The Spartans._

With his men watching nervously, Walters decided to act.

"I want every third man up and armed with his own and a plasma rifle. We're going in hot. The rest need to stay and hold for when we come back running."

The men ordered to follow leapt to their feet and gathered the necessary items. They lined up in front of the Lieutenant and held their arms in the ready position as he slapped a clip into his pistol.

"All right, you lucky bums. As soon as we clear this village we're going forward in a nice and long skirmish line. Sniper on the right flank, rocket man on the left. Move out now!"

The men dashed to the edge of the village and took cover behind the rubble. After a scan of the field, the sniper declared it clear to advance. The men dropped onto their stomachs and began the long trek across the field on their bellies.

Halfway across, the sniper reported movement on their left flank. The formation shifted over and converged on the danger area. They huddled around the trench-mouth and waited with baited breath for the newcomers to emerge.

Lipton stopped at the exit of the tunnel and listened tentatively. He could hear the rustle of grass through his enhanced audio receptors in his helmet.

"Wait a second," he told the Spartan. "I'll check it out."

The Spartan shook her head and pulled him out of the way. "They're human, trust me. Even without my helmet I can still hear them. My guess is that they are part of your platoon."

Lipton had a hard time concealing his surprise at her announcement. Not to be outdone, he slipped in front of her and grinned. "In that case, I'll be the first out to greet them."

Walters silently unsheathed his knife and crouched poised over the trench lip. He waited until the newcomer had fully exited the tunnel before tackling it from behind. He grunted in surprise as his body slammed into a black-armored fist. He tumbled head-over-heels into the grass and gasped for breath.

The other ODST's laughed lightly at him and welcomed Lipton out of the trench. He grinned beneath his helmet at dusted himself off before slugging Lipton in the stomach. Lipton doubled-over in mock pain and slapped him on the back.

"Long time no see, sir." Lipton said light-heartedly. "I'd thought you had shipped out weeks ago."

"Not a chance at that, Sergeant. Not while there's fresh Covenant to kill. Speaking of which…" He pointed towards the tree-line and cracked his knuckles. "We've got friendlies in there kicking butt. Most likely your Spartan pals."

"Right." Lipton dropped onto all fours and signaled into the tunnel. A helmetless Spartan walked out and crouched down beside him, using a detached 2x scope to view the forest.

"Lieutenant, this is Spartan 243, she'll be helping out for a little bit."

"Roger that, Sarge." Walters shook the Spartan's hand and grimaced at the scars on her face. "That looks really painful."

"It is." The Spartan brushed off further comments and started crawling towards the woods. The other ODST's followed close behind, scanning the area for targets.

"Contact! Three 'Shees bearing down from four o'clock."

"I got them." A heavily-armed ODST rose to his knees and pointed his Jackhammer launcher at the trio of purplish blobs. "This'll take a second."

Lipton bit his lip worryingly and checked his watch. It would be dark soon. Then the cloakers would come. _Just the thing we'd need._ He thought. _Camo-Elites in the pitch black. That would be murder._

A soft beeping noise indicated that the corporal had a lock, but the man waited until he could guarantee a hit before firing. Once the Banshees came in close enough to fire, he yanked the trigger, sending one high-yield 102mm through the air.

Barabus grinned wolfishly and licked blood from his shoulder. The _demons_ had hijacked one of the Prophet-blessed Scarabs in a vain attempt to escape. However, in the dense woods, the Scarab was a perfect target. Companies of Covenant troops threw themselves against the vehicle in ambush after ambush, wearing down the defenders. _Soon they will all be dead and I will be promoted_._ That position with Tartarus is still available._ His attention shifted slightly as he searched the sky for his air support.

"Where in the name of Proph-"

Twin explosions above the trees interrupted him. The burning wreckage of two Banshees hurtled down from the sky trailing loose debris. Barabus winced and squinted across the fields toward the _human_ lines. The lone human crouching in the field made an excellent target for his carbine. He hadn't had any practice in weeks.

Lipton cheered when the rocket hit. Shrapnel from the round tore through the first Banshee and penetrated a second, filling it with lead. The Banshee sagged downwards but managed to retain its balance.

Then the fuel tank erupted.

Initially the rocket had failed to explode. It only showered fragments in all direction at the point of contact. Fortunately, a stray shard had pierced one of the fuselage pods. The superheated metal ignited the fuel inside and caused a tremendous explosion large enough to engulf both of the damaged Banshees. The pilots' armor and shields were no match for the flames, and they were incinerated instantly.

Lieutenant Walters hushed the men and glanced anxiously at the woods. His eyes met with Barabus' for the slightest moment before the Brute pulled the trigger.

"Get Down!"

Blood showered the ODST's as the energy beam ripped a fist-sized hole in the rocket-bearing corporal's helmet. The man's body collapsed in a heap on top of Walters. The body shook as a second round hit it, this time deflected by the ODST's armor.

The Spartan swore and rolled behind a mound of dirt. Lipton took a moment to gauge the distance before flattening himself against the ground. _Too far_. He thought. _I'd be fish bait before I moved three feet._ Years of training and experience kicked in as he scanned the men for a sniper.

"Sniper, eleven o'clock low. Peg him."

Another round that punched into the ground by his head served to hasten the sniper to action. The grizzled private dropped the bipod in a flash and homed in on the sniper.

"Sergeant, there's two-"

A pair of beam rounds struck him in the torso and he flinched. His aim wavered for a moment, and then he refocused and sent off two quick rounds.

"Two down. It looks like we've got company."

Despite the pressing dangers of the Scarab, clusters of Covenant troops drifted over to the forest, intent on easier prey. They grouped up at the edge of the woods and began to lay down a spread of plasma fire in the ODST's direction. Through the hail of plasma a trio of lucky shots struck an unlucky Noncom. The man screamed in pain and rolled over onto his back. His charred SMG sparked on the ground by Lipton's side. What few strains of grass still remained caught fire instantaneously. _Oh heck._ Lipton smothered the flames and squeezed off a burst at the Covenant soldiers. His rounds found their targets. Two Grunts burst into flames and fell in a heap.

"Lieutenant, we need to move!" The Spartan shrugged off a glancing plasma round and ripped off her bandages. Crabbing over to the wounded Sergeant, she wrapped the bandages around his burned thigh. "We're sitting ducks out here."

Lt. Walters grimaced and nodded, too busy to answer audibly. His rifle was dry. "All right, men. You heard the lady! In ten I want you falling back leapfrog style."

Lipton grabbed his arm. "Sir, what about the Spartans?"

"They're on their own. Look at us, Lipton. We don't have enough men!" Walters spun on his back and reached out for the fallen Jackhammer launcher. One round rested in the chamber, tow more lay on the ground beside it. It didn't take a genius to see the shrapnel blocking the two launch-tubes.

"Crap. Just what we needed." He turned on his side and signaled Lipton. "Send the men bac-"

A beam round slashed across his throat just below his chin mid-sentence. He gurgled and toppled over on his back gasping for breath. A wave of horror swept over him as he felt his life ebb away. His vision reddened slightly and he knew he was finished. _Not while my men are in danger._

With a colossal effort he hefted the rocket launcher and snatched the two loose rounds. He pushed the muscles in his legs, urging them forward. A ghostly roar emancipated from his throat and he heaved himself onto his knees. The Covenant forces paused at the sight. A ripple of harsh laughter flitted through their ranks. One _human_ charging a whole corps of elite Covenant soldiers?

One of the Jackals casually stepped forward from the ranks and took aim at the lone ODST struggling forward. He rested his sights on the _human_ and waited. A glare in his scope caused him to freeze as a chill settled on his stomach. The 7.62mm rounds followed close behind. The Jackal's head flew four feet backwards and landed in a clump of Grunts. The Grunts shrieked in terror and ran frantically from the head, oblivious to the threats and orders of their superiors. The Elites in charge took matters into their own hands, hosing the Grunts with plasma. Stray rounds splashed on the dry trees, igniting the wood. The fire leapt from tree to tree faster than the Covenant could keep track. In a minute the Covenant were completely surrounded by flames.

Lt. Walters continued forward, his life steadily draining from his body. Blood began to wet his hands and loosened his grip on the precious ammo. One of the rockets slipped from his hands and fell to the ground. He reached down to retrieve it and stumbled over a root. Pain shot through his entire body as he fought to rise. By now he could barely see, his vision was so red. The dim outline of the Covenant troops encouraged him onwards. He drew in as deep a breath as he could and pushed off of the ground.

Barabus swore and executed the Elite that started the fire. His fur was smoldering from the intense heat of the blaze, yet he focused on his objective. The Scarab trundled off away from his position and he knew he had failed. At the very least he could eliminate the pitiful _humans_ in front of him. The lone _human_ had posed no threat until one of their snipers slew the Jackal. _I would have killed him anyway for hesitating_. He thought. _At least I will personally kill that human once I kill the others._

He determinedly brought his carbine to his shoulders and settled his sights on the _human's_ head. _One shot, one kill._ He pulled the trigger and waited for the satisfactory sight of the _human_ falling to the ground. The sight didn't come, for the round bounced off of the _human's_ helmet. Barabus frowned and took aim again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a brief flash of light as the sunlight glinted off of the barrel of a sniper rifle. His death was quick and painless.

Walters fell again within twenty feet of the forest. The panicked Covenant soldiers ran amuck in the inferno, too confused to shoot him. He checked the rockets and manually primed them. _Gods help me and keep my men safe._ With his muscles screaming in protest, he dragged his body forward. One of the Elites finally took notice of him. The alien barked out an order and the whole Covenant force descended on him. Dozens of hands yanked him roughly up, ripping the launcher from his hands. He screamed futilely in agony as they wrenched his body away from the high explosives. Through the mass of bodies he made eye contact with Staff Sergeant Lipton. The man swallowed hard and brought his rifle to bear. _Please, gods give him accuracy._

Lipton felt hot tears running down his cheeks as he zoomed in on the rocket ammo. His vision blurred as he fired, but he knew he had hit. Sadness washed through him and threatened to tear him apart as the explosion lit up the evening sky. Hundreds of plasma grenades erupted in a titanic tongue of fire that reached a mile high. Adding to the explosion were the fiery comets left by blazing Banshee fliers. The sight was so bright that even the shielded visor on Lipton's helmet couldn't dampen the light. All that Lipton could see through his tears was a bright white light. And yet, even through the thunderous howling of the detonations, he thought he heard a faint voice saying,

_Good job, Lipton. You made me proud._


	7. Chapter 7

"Good job, Lipton. You made me proud. Your actions heroics have saved countless peoples lives. If it were not for your deeds, the whole 34th Division would be history." Admiral Hood stepped forward from his position and pinned the medal on Lipton's vest. A dozen medals already hung from his breast-bar. Each one from an act of bravery superseding his call of duty. After feeling the medal click in place, Admiral Hood stepped back and joined in the polite clapping from the other officers and NCOs. He continued in a loud and steady voice, allowing the cameras to catch his voice.

"For his bravery and courage in the face of overwhelming odds, I hereby present Staff Sergeant George Lipton with the Medal of Honor." More clapping erupted at his announcement, which he calmly waited out. "And furthermore, in recognition of his personal initiative, I am promoting George Lipton to the rank of First Lieutenant for his work at the battle on Jerusalem II…"

"Sir, my scopes are clean." The private's voice sounded strained, and Lipton couldn't blame him. They had been out of contact with their platoon for a week, stuck behind Covenant lines. Or at least, supposedly stuck behind the lines.

"That's affirmative, Schleps. Get a move on." Lipton rubbed his hand across a recent scar along his arm. A captured beam rifle lay cradled in his lap, his only weapon. What was left of the company crouched around him in whatever shelter they could find. Freezing rain pounded down on them from on high, causing a chaotic din. _Look on the bright side,_ Lipton reminded himself, _the Elites can't use their camouflage in this weather._

A rustling in the bushes to his right alerted him to his scout's presence. The scout crawled onto the deer path beside him and handed his empty sniper rifle to a teammate. The weapon's ammo had been used up long ago, but the scope was worth its weight in gold out in the jungle.

"No sign of that patrol, sir. It looks like they took our bait."

"Right." Lipton rubbed his eyes and stifled a yawn. Sleep deprivation was affecting his senses. "We'll skip the main paths in the future, just to be safe. We still can't catch our bearing until this darned rain lifts. Get some sleep. That's an order."

The private knew better than to argue and immediately grabbed a bare patch of dirt. He covered his position with a sheet of vines and tried to catch up on his much-needed sleep. Meanwhile Lipton blinked away weariness and continued to scan the area for hostiles. The image of the ambush was still vivid in his mind. A third of the command had been cut down within seconds by the sword-armed Elites before he could even register their existence. Another dozen had fallen before the Elites had been completely wasted by a score of Scared ODST's. Most of the company's ammo had been used up in the ambush; the rest had been used up in the numerous firefights and skirmishes since. They had spent the past four days avoiding numerous patrols of heavily-armed Covenant troops.

_It's been so long._ He thought. _I just want to go home; to have all of the fighting over with; to see my wife and daughter._

Sleep finally overcame his battle-hardened mind. As his head slowly drifted down and rested on his chest, his teammates exchanged tired grins. They knew how hard he had pushed himself, how badly he needed rest. He had pushed himself so hard that he could barely stand; his body was so weak from malnutrition.

"Let him sleep," one of the other sergeants told a corporal that approached him. "He needs all of the rest that he can get."

The corporal hastily backed away and resumed his position.

So did the Black-armored Elite that had tracked the scout back from his hiding place. A grim smile played on the Elite's face as he imagined the look on his superior's face when he would report the _human's_ presence.

The strangled cry of the sentry was the only warning that the ODST's had. As the first troopers rose from their positions a volley of plasma grenades landed in the middle of the deer path. The resulting explosions slew half of the soldiers and wounded most of the others. The wounded soldiers fired blindly into the trees in a vain attempt to find their attackers. Their panicked fire only pinpointed their positions, and they all fell quickly before the Covenant onslaught.

Lipton woke when the sentry died. His ears picked up the cry and he knew that his men were screwed. Rather than rising to attack like the others, he rolled away from the path and searched for targets. Seeing movement on the far side of the path, he unleashed a burst. The plasma splashed on an energy shield and he fired again. His second burst downed the Elite. Another Elite showed himself and he unloaded a long burst into the Elite's chest, savoring the sight of the plasma burning a whole in the alien's torso.

The familiar smell of a Jackal wafted in from behind and he ducked under a tree root. A trio of Jackals trotted up to his former position, weapons tucked away. Their manner indicated that they thought that his fire had been friendly, so he had a second-long advantage over them before they could unholster their weapons. Two plasma rounds ripped through the first Jackal as he hurdled the root and planted his foot in the second jackal's face. His non-regulation spike-tipped boots smashed the Jackal's head like an egg as he adjusted his aim on the third Jackal. Lipton didn't let go of the trigger until the weapon overheated. The charred corpse of the Jackal gave mute testament to his anger.

"Hey, sarge."

One ODST appeared through the trees and sidled up beside him. "We've got to move. They're coming." The ODST paused long enough to gather the Jackals' weapons before pulling Lipton away from the bodies.

The ODST led Lipton away from the carnage to a cave they had passed by earlier that day. "We can hold up here, sir." The ODST didn't bother waiting for a response and began setting up a barricade. Lipton sat down on a rock, mourning the loss of his men.

"Sir, I need your help." The ODST tapped his shoulder respectfully. "I lost my friends too, sir."

These words snapped Lipton out of his reverie. He hefted one of the Jackal's beam rifles and helped pile up rocks for the barricade with one hand. Not once did his eyes leave the trees ahead as he finished the barrier.

The two ODST's crouched down behind the wall and waited for the Covenant to come. As soon as they saw motion, Lipton and the ODST raised their beam rifles and took aim.

"How old are you, son?"

The ODST's helmet barely twitched as he replied. "Twenty-four, sir."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Already married, sir. My wife's expecting in a week or so."

Lipton winced and remembered his wife back on Earth. "Oh."

"Yeah. And these Covenant buggers are keeping me away from her. They'll pay for that before this day's over."

Lipton nodded and the ODST's launched their first volley into the brush. Two Elites tumbled out from their cover with smoking holes in their foreheads. A hail of plasma fire came in from all directions outside, but none hit the barricade.

"What'll her name be?"

The ODST paused long enough to acquire another target before answering. He squeezed the trigger and watched a Jackal sniper fall backwards.

"Jasmine; after her mother."

"Nice name." Lipton double tapped the trigger and sent two rounds through a pair of Grunts approaching from the flank. The creatures burst in flames momentarily before falling into a pool. The soft splash of another being falling in made Lipton smile grimly under his helmet. "What's she like?"

The ODST ducked an incoming round and pinned the sender to a tree with a well-aimed shot.

"Soft, dark brown hair; blue eyes, beautiful smile. She's always smiling. Nothing gets her down."

"She sounds nice. I bet she's-" An explosion rocked their position and Lipton ducked his head. He came back up and checked on the ODST. Blood covered the man's front all over. His legs lay to one side in a growing pool of blood as he grasped desperately at Lipton's hand.

Lipton hurled tow grenades over the barrier and used the respite to pull the soldier's helmet off. The man vomited up blood on his chest-plate in Lipton's horrified hands. As the light left the man's eyes, he locked gaze with Lipton and tried to feebly grip his arm.

"Tell her…tell her that I…"

Lipton closed the man's mouth and nodded solemnly. He understood. Tears ran unbidden down his cheeks as he watched the man's life leave his body. With a silent prayer he vowed to find the man's wife and convey the message.

The crunching noise of boots on the sandy rock brought Lipton back to reality. He grinned feraly and hefted the two beam rifles; one in each hand. The Covenant paused halfway up the slope as he stepped from the cave, coolly staring down his opponents. A lone Elite stepped forward from the bunched group and ignited an energy sword. Lipton matched the Elite's snarl with a maniacal grin.

"Have at you, scum!"

He charged forward recklessly, firing as he went.

Three days later a detachment of the 256th Marine Recon Brigade found him in the clearing surrounded by the bodies of sixty Covenant soldiers. They carried his mangled body and the bodies of his men back across fifty miles of dense jungle to the Army Headquarters before operating on him for twenty hours straight in an effort to save his life. He survived, but he was never the same.


	8. Chapter 8

"We lost contact with three squads from the 256th Marine Recon Brigade an hour ago. They were scouting out a previously undiscovered temple in the highlands to the northeast of Terrastona. My guess is that they ran into some of the Covenant troops beamed down from that carrier before it bugged out."

A slide appeared on the screen with a detailed map of the valley. Shaped roughly like a horseshoe, it was situated deep in the sprawling forest and surrounded by steep mountains.

"There are only three entrances to this valley and they will most likely be guarded, so you are going in hot. Are we clear?"

1st Lieutenant Lipton nodded silently and focused on the map. A small, barely visible blob on the screen pinpointed the temple's position. _No wonder they missed it. It's so small. Anyone could have mistaken it for an irregular rock formation._

"You will be leading your platoon in at LZ Foxtrot, here by this clearing." The colonel tapped on the screen at the indicated position. The image zoomed in on the landing zone and gave Lipton a good view of the area. _Too much tall grass. Grunts hide pretty easily in that crap._

"With respect sir, how many men are in that detachment?"

"Twelve. Four Warthogs. Got a problem with it?"

"Sir no sir. Just checking." Inwardly Lipton groaned. One whole platoon for a squad of soldiers. The tradeoff was definitely not worth it. "What is the estimated opposition strength?"

The colonel waited for a moment as he thought out the answer. "Our intelligence forces have said that they will be manageable."

"You have no clue then. That makes this so much easier." Lipton felt his spirit sag in his chest. "Or is it a full battalion?"

"Full battalion at the least." The colonel sighed and rubbed the back of his skull. He looked up from his datapad and offered a weak smile. "If I could, I'd just nuke the place. Orders are orders; I can't fight ONI and high command."

"ONI? What are they doing with this?" A shudder ran down Lipton's back. ONI was the Navy's intelligence branch reminiscent of the Soviet-era KGB. One bad step and they'd have you pinned to a wall before you could blink, no matter where you were. They were everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. Just the sight of an ONI officer gave hardened veterans a chill.

"IR imagery indicated a strong heat signature dwelling inside the temple. The creeps want it checked out. Now you know me well enough that I hate losing men and that I think this idea is stupid. Don't let that affect your actions out there. Go get those Marines back Lieutenant. Dismissed."

"Thirty to dirt! Lock and load boys!" Lipton's master sergeant let out a war whoop as he checked his ammo. "There'll be lots of killing today."

"Hooah!" The men replied in unison. They were all eager to get in the fight. There were twelve fellow men down there and they were determined to get them.

"Ten left! Prep for evac!"

One final check confirmed the location of the Wraith's position. _This is going to hurt._

The first of the Pelicans touched down with a light thud. The twelve ODST troopers piled out and threw themselves down into a hasty perimeter. The other three Pelicans unloaded their cargo and fired the reverse thrusters.

"See you in twenty, Lipton. We'll save a beer for you."

Lipton shook his head at the pilot's confidence and picked up his binoculars. _Right, that'll be a half-empty beer. Now, where's that pair of…Oh gosh._ Two arcing balls of fire filled the lenses of his binoculars. He dropped his binoculars and dove for cover as his men unleashed a torrent of lead at the Wraiths. Three explosions rocked the first tank as a volley of Jackhammer rounds tore through the Covenant armor.

Not that the Covenant took the whole beating. The two mortar rounds found targets in the middle of the field. Blood and gore showered down on Lipton from behind as four of his men vanished in a ball of fire. One of the men's ammo pouches went off and sent loose rounds flying in all directions.

The second Wraith tank was enveloped in a wall of flame as five rockets pulverized the tank. The burning hulk flipped end over end away from the ODST's and splashed noisily into a river. The master sergeant casually saluted Lipton and grimaced.

"The LZ is clear, sir. Four men down and two wounded."

"Roger, Sarge. Gather any spare ammo from the dead and patch up those wounded." As the Sergeant went off to the assigned tasks, Lipton added under his breath. "We've been on the ground for two minutes and we've already lost four men, not to mention alerted the whole Covenant force to our presence. Just great."

He searched the ground for his binoculars. They were right where he had dropped them; with jagged shard bearing Covenant purple stuck in the right lens.

"Dang. That was close."

The Master Sergeant approached him and saluted. "The men and wounded are geared up and ready to go. One of the wounded can't move, sir. Should we leave him behind with a detachment to guard the LZ?"

"Do that, Cliff. Just don't leave too many or too few. We can't afford to leave too many behind but we know they'll be swarming the LZ soon."

"Will do, sir." Jay Cliff turned and pointed to a cluster of men. "Third squad, you've got sitting duty. Protect the LZ and keep Davids comfortable. Don't worry. You'll get plenty of Covenant targets."

_Yeah, too many._ Lipton gathered the rest of the platoon and spread them in a double skirmish line. The most experienced scouts and snipers fanned out into the forest 20 meters ahead of the main force. The platoon advanced cautiously, wary of Covenant ambushes. Every minute or so Lipton's radio would buzz with the sighting of a Grunt patrol. There were dozens of patrols that they either by passed or eliminated quietly in the hour that it took for them to cross the woods. By the time they reached the other side it was dark.

Lipton's radio buzzed twice, indicating contact with the Marines.

"We've got hard contact up ahead. The poor sops got trapped in a clearing and are surrounded. Mostly Grunts, probably a dedicated battalion. There are quite a few Jackals and Elites too. No Brutes or Bugs."

"Copy that, Richardson. Advise on options." Lipton smiled at the sniper's quick reply. He had rigidly adhered to the idea of allowing his men to think for themselves and decide what to do in any given situation.

"We've only got a line of Jackals between us and the Marines. It looks like they are keeping the Marines pinned with sniper rifles. We could pop this line and pull them out."

"That sounds good. Wait for the rest to catch up. Radio the others to pick targets."

"Roger, sir."

The rest of the platoon dropped all pretences of overt caution and approached the sniper's position at the double. The men took cover behind trees, boulders and bushes as they quietly claimed targets. Lipton calmly chose his target, a tall Jackal in the center of the line, and spoke on the platoon frequency.

"Fire at will."

There were twenty Jackals in all in the line. Eighteen fell instantly as a volley of lead knocked them off of their feet. The other two stumbled forward and fell among the corpses of the rest, where they bled to death in a matter of seconds. The encounter lasted five seconds from the first shot to the last Jackal's death.

"New contacts. Squadron of Ghosts bearing in from the east. They look _in the dark_."

"I copy." Lipton once again thanked God for his men's independence. His platoon had already adjusted and six Jackhammer launchers were pointed at the Ghosts. "Wait until they get within 100 yards. I want as clean a kill as possible."

The men acknowledged his order and waited patiently for the Ghosts to come closer. The Ghosts remained blissfully unaware of the platoon as they approached the Marine's position. They were clearly being sent in for a glory kill. Most of the riders were blue, with a smattering of reds among the rear drivers. The Ghosts almost bypassed the ODST's completely, except that one of the reds noticed the dead Jackals. The unit changed course and headed straight for the jackals, right into the ODST's crossfire.

"100 on the dot, all teams commence firing."

The first four pilots were dead before the Covenant knew what hit them. Their lifeless bodies hurtled backwards into the rear ranks of the Ghosts, causing several wrecks. The six rockets that followed added more carnage to the chaos. Five Ghosts exploded as the rockets found their marks. Two more flipped over and ground to a halt in a jumbled mess. The second volley of rockets finished the group off. Blue gore spurted up in the air so high that it drenched the nearest soldiers 90 yards away. The men rolled on the ground to wipe off some of the blistering innards. The rest clung tightly to their armor giving them an eerie glowing appearance.

"Status report."

"No casualties, sir. Some of the men have taken unauthorized hot showers."

The remark brought a laugh from the ODST's. Lipton shook his head and examined the surviving Ghosts. "Good job, men. Richardson, check those Ghosts. Some of them might still function."

"Do you want me to go out there, sir?" By now they had attracted attention. A company of Grunts detached from the main group harassing the Marines and started off in their direction. Lipton weighed the risk and cancelled the order.

"Just scope them. If any are running disable them."

"Roger that." A few seconds later the sniper's rifle barked out three times and three Ghosts sparked but didn't explode. "They are all out. Requesting permission to engage the incoming Grunts."

"Negative, Corporal. We need to get to the Marines." Lipton signaled to Cliff and pulled him over. "Tell First, Second, Fourth and Fifth squads to hold here. I'll take the rest out to the Marines."

With two-thirds of the ODST's covering his back, Lipton gauged the distance between them and the Marines. Satisfied, he waited for a lull in the shooting before breaking cover. The twelve ODST's from Sixth and Support squads followed him doggedly as he sprinted across the field while evading Covenant fire. Two of his men fell by his side as a fuel rod round exploded to his left. Their bodies were picked up in-stride by the others and carried hurriedly into the Marines position.

If the position looked bad from the outside, it was even worse from the inside. Ten Marines lay stretched out between two smoking Warthogs, both with slagged guns on the backs. Lipton curtly acknowledged the Marines and set about building cover with all of the available wreckage. The Marines took advantage of the ODST's outgoing fire to huddle down and check their ammo. More than one called out for extra clips as they examined the pitiful remains of their three-day survival packs.

One of the Marines crawled over to Lipton and helped him over turn one of the Warthog's fenders. Once the damaged piece was on its side, the Marine reached out and shook Lipton's hand.

"Color Sergeant Schloshky reporting for duty, sir."

It took a moment for the name to sink in. "Schloshky? What are you doing here? I didn't come down here to rescue you."

"Lipton? Fancy meeting you here. They're really dragging you around the universe."

"No kidding." A near miss caused the fender to shudder violently. "What happened down here? You've stirred up one huge hornet's nest."

"Well, it's a short story. We were on patrol in this area checking for Covenant remnants when we found that old thing." He pointed to a massive temple about a mile away, barely visible. "Well, we couldn't open it, so we sent the LT and one man back in the third 'Hog to report. Soon after we got hit by this crowd. A flight of 'Shees took out our Warthogs and pinned us down until we knocked them out of the sky. By then however, the rest had arrived and set up camp. We've been sitting here playing sniper for the last day. Did Malcolm make it?"

"Nope, but we did."

"Darn. He was a good man. That happens too often in this war."

"No kidding."

The corpsman crept up to Lipton and tapped him on the shoulder. Leaning over to lessen the distance between them, the man shouted the body count. Lipton winced as the man's voice blasted his ears on the radio.

"Sir! We've got two dead and seven wounded. Two can't be moved. What are your orders?"

"Calm down, private. You need to stay calm."

The ODST quieted down and glanced towards the Covenant lines. Over a thousand Grunts were massed on the hill less than half a mile away. They were preparing to charge. If the ODST's stayed in their position they would easily be overwhelmed.

Cliff's voice crackled on the radio. "Sir, we've got two pairs of Wraith's converging on your position. An airstrike is inbound; ETA 10 minutes. We won't last that long if we stay here."

A thousand scenarios flashed through Lipton's mind in the space of a few seconds. Only one that he thought of could give his men a chance at survival. The thought brought tears to his eyes. _Too many have died, Walters, Young, Xyman, Isaacs, Schelps, the list could go on… and it did._

Lipton rose to his feet and walked determinedly over to the crippled men. Both were in incredible pain with plasma burns covering nearly their whole bodies. Lipton knelt down beside them and pulled off his helmet. He ignored the incoming plasma as it splashed noisily all around him. He locked eyes with each man in turn. They both nodded weakly.

With tears leaking out from under closed eyes, he unholstered his pistol and shot them both in the chest.


	9. Chapter 9

When he opened his eyes again all of his troops were staring with dumbfounded gazes.

"It, it had to be done." He croaked out. His voice seemed to mock him as he spoke. "I had no choice."

Schloshky patted him on the shoulder comfortingly. "That's okay, Lip. Any of us would have done it."

_As if that would help._ Cliff's voice popped back on the radio again.

"Sir, what happened? What's going on?"

Schloshky took the hand-held radio from Lipton's nerveless grasp.

"Schloshky here. We don't have wounded anymore. We'll move out to your position in two."

There was a considerable pause before Cliff responded. His voice sounded strained.

"Copy…, Schloshky. We'll prep the welcome committee."

Schloshky signaled for the Marines and ODST's to move out. The ODST's provided covering fire while the Marines carried the wounded and dead. Once they were ready, Schloshky bent down and grabbed Lipton.

"Time to move, Lipton."

Lipton looked up at him blankly, uncomprehending. His whole body was quivering from shock. He had killed hundreds of aliens in the war, but he had never shot another human before. _They were fellow soldiers, my men._ He willed himself to die, to get hit by a plasma round, anything. The pain of what he did was unbearable.

Schloshky sighed and pointed to two unencumbered Marines. "Post and Kumalo, carry the Lieutenant; we need to move now." A roar from the Covenant lines added to the urgency already in his voice. The Grunts, held in check until now, began to advance in a rolling wave. The sight of those nine-hundred blood-thirsty aliens chilled Schloshky to his core. "Move, move, move!"

The two-dozen soldiers burst out from behind cover and began making their way to the tree-line. They moved constantly and fired in staggered bursts. Scores of Grunts fell or burst in flames as the bullets found their marks, but they kept coming. They would overtake the humans if they didn't speed up. With the number of wounded, however, they couldn't.

Lipton watched in a detached manner as the overpowering tide of blue approached. Green plasma and purple energy shards began to skip past him as he struggled to regain control of himself. Men began to cry out in pain as energy rounds found targets in the scattered line of troops. Post and Kumalo were trying to keep him steady, but they were moving too slowly. _I'm slowing us down. I'm getting us killed._

They were most of the way to the woods when everything fell apart. Post and Kumalo were negotiating a ditch when a shower of Needler projectiles hit them. Most bounced off of their armor, but plenty found flesh. Post screamed in pain as a half-dozen rounds bored into his arms. The explosion that followed covered Kumalo and Lipton in purple and red gore. Kumalo and Lipton collapsed in the ditch. As terrifying as the Grunts were, neither could bring the strength to move.

Carefully, so as not to show their presence, the two soldiers brought their weapons up. Lipton stole a glance over at the Marine and saw him shaking in fear. The private could barely keep his submachine-gun steady as he anxiously peered over the edge of the ditch. With a slow and deliberate move, Lipton placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Relax Kumalo. Just shoot as they appear and don't stop shooting."

The Marine glanced at Lipton from the corner of his eye. A wild, caged gleam shined in his eye. "Sir, we aren't going to make it."

"I know." _I'll just never accept it._ "If we die though, we'll go down taking more with us. Just keep shooting. You'll be fine."

"Yes sir." The man still looked shaken and unnerved, but Lipton noticed that his hands stopped shaking. "I won't stop."

"Good." The ground began to shake as the Grunts approached. Despite all of his training and experience, Lipton couldn't suppress the fear that rose into his throat as the Grunts came into view.

Lipton and the Marine fired in unison at the nearest Grunts. One was literally torn in half by the hail of lead. Still more burst into flames as their methane packs exploded. Even more howled in pain and dropped in heaps. But there more.

They hurled a trio of frag grenades into the crowd and winced as shrapnel flew past their ears. The normally deafening crack of the grenades barely registered over the Grunts' cries. Uncontrolled fear began to take over Lipton as he watched the ammo counter on his rifle dwindle too quickly. _Breath. Take aim. Aim small, miss small. Just keep shoo-_

A plasma grenade sailed through the air and landed just between Lipton and Kumalo. Without a second thought Lipton dove on it, throwing his survival pack under his body to absorb the blow. Kumalo kept firing, ignorant of the grenade. Seeing Lipton on the ground, he peeked over and saw the eerie glow of the grenade. His eyes widened in fear but he continued shooting. _Good job, soldier. You would've been great._

The explosion lifted Lipton off of the ground and tossed him out of the ditch. He landed heavily at the edge of the ditch and gasped in pain. Through red-hazed eyes he watched his lower torso bleeding a river. Kumalo, eyes wide, emptied clip after clip into the ranks of Covenant troops. Finally he ran dry. As his eyes began to cloud over he saw Kumalo rise to his feet, K-Bar knife in one hand, and a pistol in the other. He stood firm in the deep trough swinging out at the Grunts. He finally fell under a mob of Grunts. As the pile settled down on him one of his last grenades went off. Dozens of bodies soared through the air as shrapnel and fire encompassed everything around him.

A single tear leaked out from Lipton's closing eyes as he saluted the man's courage. With a final effort he reached for his breast pocket and felt for the familiar bulge of his incendiary grenade. With a satisfied smile he maneuvered the grenade until he could find the pin. As the Grunts closed in around him he gave it a yank, turning the entire landscape around him into a raging firestorm.


End file.
